Matilda didn't make it. She died yesterday afternoon, shortly after a visit from us. We brought Murphy to see her, and her favorite blanket. We think her squeaks and groans she made were her telling us goodbye.
I had worried that the venom would damage a vital organ, like the kidneys, but in the end it was the blood that was destroyed and never fixed. After 7 transfusions (4 blood and 3 plasma) her heart simply gave out.
When we first adopted her, she was a timid stick from the streets. A jittery almost shy girl who would burrow and hide throughout the house. Over time, she become a snuggle companion, fetch player, and an ever more creative burrower. She slept in bed with us, and was ecstatic when we would return home, dancing on her hind legs and patting the large window pane in our side door with her little claws. She became happiness personified.
We keep saying how unfair this is, how the little one got a raw deal. But I think the rawest deal of all would have been her dying alone in the streets downtown, which would have happened had Harmony not rescued her. Emaciated, fearful, and un-loved to a vibrant loving, loud soul. It didn't last long enough, but at least she had that.
At least she had us, and for a little while we had her.